


Morning Routine

by grammaticallyimpaired



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Breakfast, Domestic Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mornings, Pancakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4622769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grammaticallyimpaired/pseuds/grammaticallyimpaired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a morning routine, which involves waking up hours before the rest of the group and getting an early start on his day. One day, when Steve returns to the tower after his jog, he's surprised to find a stack of pancakes waiting for him. When he goes to look for Tony, he can't find him anywhere, and when Tony returns that night, he's incredibly stressed out from a meeting, so Steve doesn't mention the delicious breakfast. But as the days go by, the breakfast food continues to appear, but Tony does not. So one day, Steve decides the only way he'll be able to give his compliments to the chef is if he catches him in the act!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Routine

In the mornings, Steve always woke up at around 7:30 a.m. - without an alarm slicing through the morning silence. The military alarm that had been infused into his subconscious had not disintegrated over the 70-year time gap. Tony was always fast asleep in his arms, tired from the research and experiments that he got ideas for in the middle of the night. No matter how late Tony would stay up and work, he would always manage to find his way back into Steve's arms in their bed. 

Usually, Steve would wake up in the middle of the night, find the other side of the bed cold and empty, and walk down to Tony's workshop, where he was tirelessly working on a new idea or perfecting an old one. Steve would wrap his arms around his waist from behind, and ask Tony to come to bed. Occasionally, Tony would complain that he wasn’t tired. But a yawn almost always followed the complaint, resulting in Steve carrying a drowsy Tony up to bed, his nose buried in the juncture of Steve's neck and shoulder, Steve smiling all the way. Every morning, he’d smile down at Tony’s sleeping form, and press his lips against his temple, before getting up from the bed, and preparing for his morning workout.

First he would make sure that Tony was comfortable, because whenever he untangled himself from Tony, he would unconsciously whine at the lack of warmth. Steve would pull the covers up from his waist up to his shoulders, but usually Tony would just reach out for Steve's pillow (still asleep, mind you), and hug it close to his chest, the arc reactor's light reflecting off of the pillow. The details of Tony's face were illuminated by the light, allowing Steve to marvel in the peaceful appearance of his boyfriend. The scent of Steve still lingered from where his head was resting before, and when Tony breathed in, a large smile would grace his face. Steve would sometimes hear him mumble 'Steve' before rolling over, taking his pillow along with him. 

Steve always felt a certain tugging at his heart, at how adorable Tony looked, clutching his pillow to her like a small child would his favorite toy. The urge to climb back into bed with him was overwhelming, but Steve somehow managed to stifle it.

A certain routine took place in the mornings for Steve - go to the bathroom, wash his hands, brush his teeth, change from pajama bottoms to sweatpants and a tank top, go to the kitchen, eat an apple, drink a bottle of water, then head out of Avengers Tower for his 45-minute morning jog.

Occasionally, Steve would see Bruce in the kitchen, brandishing a warm cup of herbal tea. On days where Thor wasn't in Asgard or visiting Jane in New Mexico, the two would jog together around Manhattan, talking about idle things, or even go to the rec room and throw a few punches. On very rare occasion would Steve catch sight of Clint, who was usually resting in his 'nest' until around noon. Natasha would wake up a bit earlier, around eleven at the latest. The only days Steve would actually catch them up early was if they were heading out on a top secret mission out of the country, which was only about three or four times a month.

The jog around Manhattan in the mornings was refreshing, the wind hitting Steve's cheeks, causing them to tinge pink slightly. The people were nice enough, always waving at Steve with smiles on their faces. Steve was still learning to adapt to the modern day technology, and for his birthday, Natasha had bought him an i-Pod (Tony had almost vehemently denied the gadget in his place, saying that he could make a better MP3 player within the hour, but matching glares from both Natasha and Steve had shut him up rather quickly), which was basically a portable record player. Alongside that, Tony had 'downloaded' all of his favorite songs from the 40's, also adding a few of the soft jazz songs from this decade that Steve had grown a soft spot for. Steve would plug in his 'earphones', and with the gentle tap of a button (or screen - the 'i-Pod' was a touch screen - only had one button), his music was softly resonating through the earbuds... Steve was still amazed by all of the advancements of technology. Though on other days, he would just jog around the neighborhood, listening to the sounds of upper-side Manhattan.

When he would return to the tower, it was around 8:45. After taking a breather, Steve would return to the kitchen, everything still the same way he had left it, downing a second bottle of water, before heading down to the training room, filled with numerous punching bags and practice dummies and weights. Steve would work out for about 45 minutes, throwing punches and lifting weights, before heading back upstairs for a shower.

Steve remembered the first time it had happened. It was about six months after he and Tony began to 'officially' declare that they were dating. When he stepped out of the shower, he put on a clean pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and as soon as he stepped out into the hallway, the first thing that hit him was the decadent scent of pancakes and syrup. Steve's eyebrows knit together in confusion (and his mouth watered in interest), before he bounded towards the kitchen. 

And there it was. 

Sitting on the kitchen counter was a plate stacked with fluffy pancakes, butter, and syrup. Beside it, there was silverware and a glass of milk. In the next room, the TV was already turned on, to Tom and Jerry (one of Steve's favorite cartoons).

Steve was startled at the plate in front of him. Usually, he didn't really have breakfast. Except for an apple for energy in the morning, he would usually wait until lunchtime, when Tony would wake up (he had abnormal sleeping patterns, but what do you expect from the genius who stays up until the ungodly hours of the morning?), to either go and grab a bite to eat, or make a home-cooked meal. Tony admitted early on that cooking was not his specialty, but that he would help Steve with ingredients and stirring and tasting and such when he would cook. But this… This was impressive.

Taking a quick look around, Steve saw that Tony was in fact not anywhere to be seen. Walking down the hallway to their bedroom, Steve peered through the door that stood ajar, and saw that the bed was already made. Now, that was a miracle in itself. Either Tony had a meeting for Stark Industries (Pepper would usually drag, literally drag, him to a meeting once or twice a week for about 2-3 hours), or he was huddled up in his workshop.

Suspicious for some odd reason, Steve grabbed the plate, and walked over to the living room. Plopping down on the couch, Steve got to work by cutting the pancakes into symmetrical pieces. As he raised the fork to his lips, he let it hover for a couple of seconds, studying the food in the prongs closely. The fluffy piece of pancake looked just fine (and it smelled heavenly), so Steve did little more than shrug a shoulder, before taking a bite. 

His eyes widened at the taste. Steve was a nice guy, but even he had to be honest, Tony was a terrible cook. He said that he would burn water when he tried to make ‘ramen noodles’ in college, and Steve didn't put it past him. But these pancakes… They were delicious. And so, Steve sat on the couch with a large grin plastered on his face, scarfing down his breakfast and watching cartoons like a gleeful child.

That night, when Tony returned from a long meeting at Stark Industries, he didn't mention anything of the breakfast surprise in the morning, leading Steve to wonder if he really did make breakfast earlier. Steve didn't bring it up, seeing as how Tony was a bit stressed out from the visit. Apparently, a few of the managers had made a mistake with calculations, or something like that. When Tony rambled, it was a bit hard to keep up with all of the jargon pouring out of his mouth. It was as if there wasn't really a filter in his mind, and all of the words just came out like one large bowl of alphabet soup. But Steve understood that the whole ordeal had frustrated Tony, so he just smiled, wrapped his arms around him, and pressed his lips against Tony's, causing him to forget everything, smiling and humming into the kiss.

But the next day, when there was a plate of eggs and bacon waiting for him after his run, Steve brought it up in the workshop later that evening, hours after Tony had come home from yet another meeting (‘Steve, you can’t just let Pepper take me out of the tower like that - that’s kidnapping. I'm serious, why are you laughing.) Tony had absolutely no clue what Steve was talking about, or so he claimed. 

“Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer, Capsicle.” Tony said, not taking his eyes off of the sketches he was fiddling with. 

With this nonchalance, Steve could have believed that Tony really didn’t know what he was talking about. That he wasn’t the person who had made him exceptional breakfast food. Except for one thing. Tony could never look Steve in the eyes when he lied. And, seeing as how his eyes had been glued to the workbench since the moment he’d arrived, Steve didn’t have a doubt that Tony knew exactly what he was talking about. But he decided not to push it, because he didn’t want to pester him, and answered with a smile and a, “Maybe I do,” before kissing Tony’s temple and asking him not to pull another all-nighter, regardless of the ‘motivation for innovation’ that struck at four in the morning.

And so, the breakfast routine resumed day after day. Steve would go workout for an hour and a half, come back upstairs at 9:30 a.m., take a 10 minute shower, and there on the kitchen counter, breakfast would be waiting for him. It wasn't always the same meal, though. Tony managed to spice it up a little. One day, pancakes. Another day, omelets. Next day, crepes. Day after, eggs sunny-side up with bacon. Day after next, Belgian waffles. The channel was always on old-style cartoons - Tom and Jerry, Looney Tunes, Pink Panther, Popeye. Tony knew that the news bothered Steve, because he always felt that he should be out in the world helping out the people that were in need, instead of sitting on the couch and watching it all go down. But he knew that Steve loved cartoons, because they reminded him of when he was younger, when he’d watch the originals with his mom and Bucky at the theaters.

The same cycle took place for about two weeks, before Steve decided to intervene in the routine. From what he could tell, the breakfast was always made after he took his shower. As soon as he would head upstairs from the training room, the kitchen lights were off, and the TV was off as well. But as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom from his shower, the scent of breakfast and the sounds of cartoons would resonate softly throughout the living room. Everyday, he would look around and see if Tony was anywhere to be found, but he always seemed to be out at the time. So Steve decided to catch him in the act.

It was a chilly October morning when Steve woke up - the day was Friday, the skies were overcast, and the hustle bustle of Manhattan had started (then again, it never really died down). Steve looked down at Tony, who was fast asleep in his arms, before smiling and placing a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips. Even though Tony was asleep, a small smile spread across his face. As soon as Steve carefully stood up from the bed, Tony whined softly, his hands searching for him, before he found his pillow, and hugged it tightly to his chest. Steve chuckled softly, before leaving for his work-out this morning. 

After brushing his teeth and changing into work-out clothes (a sweatshirt today, seeing as how it was chilly and the sky threatened rain), he briskly walked to the kitchen, downed a bottle of water and all but inhaled his apple, throwing the core in the trash can on his way out, before grabbing his i-Pod, and walking out the door, locking it behind him. The music usually gave Steve a bit more 'inspiration' during the morning work-out sessions.

Today, he jogged a bit faster - Frank Sinatra's Greatest Hits gently blasting through his earbuds as he jogged down the streets of Manhattan. When he returned to the tower, it turns out that he finished 10 minutes earlier than usual. Taking a breather, he downed a second bottle of water in the kitchen. The kitchen was devoid of any human contact so far, and Steve couldn’t say he was surprised. So he went down to exercise in the training room, bandaging his knuckles, before letting loose on the punching bags and dummies. 

It was around 9:15 a.m. when Steve stopped, 15 minutes earlier than usual, unwrapping the bandages from his hands quickly, thinking to himself 'Time really does fly by', before walking upstairs and to the bathroom. On the way, he paused in the kitchen, and saw that there was still no sign of Tony. Smiling a little to himself, Steve went to the bathroom, and closed the door, before turning on the shower, the hot cascade of water soothing his sore muscles.

Steve listened intently, but couldn't really hear anything through the barrage of water droplets pelting his skin. Quickly, he washed his hair and lathered his body with soap, before rinsing twice, the shower taking all but 3 minutes. The water was still going, the torrent now hitting the floor of the shower. Apparently, Tony informed Steve, the water will stop by itself after about 10 minutes. Steve didn't really understand why it did that, and frankly, Tony didn't either. Something about cutting down on water, and saving the planet, or something like that. But Steve found that it was quite useful now. He figured that if Tony heard the water turn off, he would hurry with breakfast, then be out the door before Steve could even make it to the kitchen. 

Steve grabbed a towel off of the rack nearby, wrapping the fluffy thing around his waist. Quietly, he opened the bathroom door and, almost instantaneously, the scent of chocolate infiltrated his nostrils. Grinning to himself, he walked down the hallway to their bedroom. Chocolate meant one thing - chocolate chip crepes. The chocolate chip crepes were Steve's favorite. Quickly, Steve opened the door to their bedroom, the bed already made. Out the window, the light drizzle and turned into a steady rain, droplets pelting soothingly against the window. He walked over to the closet, and pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a red and gold flannel shirt (the team usually poked fun at his choice of clothes, but Tony thought that the shirts looked nice, especially on Steve). He quickly dried himself off, running the towel through his hair quickly, before smoothing it back with his hands. Throwing on a pair of boxers and his jeans, Steve all but jammed his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, not even bothering to button it up more than halfway, before quietly opening the door, and making his way to the kitchen.

And there he was. Short, unruly auburn hair still mussed after being bedridden and still dressed in his pajamas (a wife beater and a pair of Steve's sweatpants, which were much too big for him, slipping off one of his hips, showing a hint of tanned skin pulled taut against his hip bone… Steve was really enjoying the view). Tony was standing in front of the kitchen stove. In his arms, he had a glass bowl, which was filled with ingredients. Crossing to the island, he grabbed a handful of chocolate chips, and sprinkled them into the bowl, mixing them in with the rest of the ingredients with a wooden spoon. Steve was watching from the doorway of the kitchen, which he was leaning against with his arms crossed across his chest, with a certain glint in his eye, and a small smile. Tony didn't know that he had an audience, his back facing Steve.

After mixing the ingredients, Tony poured the mixture onto the pan, letting it simmer on the stove for a few minutes. As the crepe began to cook, Tony went to putting all of the ingredients away in their respective cabinets. Behind him, a short stack of already-made crepes were sitting on the counter by the stove. 

'Almost missed him.'

All the while, Steve's eyes had not left his form, and Tony still hadn’t noticed him. Tony walked back to the stove, idly twirling a spatula in his fingers, humming a nameless tune to himself. It was then that Steve decided to introduce himself. 

Walking quietly over to where Tony was, Steve wrapped his arms around his waist. Tony, who had flipped the crepe over and was now watching it carefully, all but jumped, the spatula almost flying across the room, before bursting into laughter, relaxing into the embrace.

“’You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days, Cap.” Tony said, a yawn escaping from his lips.

Steve smiled, before burying his head into the crook where Tony's neck and shoulder met, inhaling his scent. “I’ll be there to resuscitate you, sweetheart.”

Though he can’t see it, Steve can feel the blush crawling up Tony’s neck, making him chuckle against his skin. 

“Smells good."

Tony smirked. "Of course they do. I made them." Tony placed his free hand on top of Steve's.

Steve's arms tightened the slightest bit, goosebumps rising at the gentle brush of skin. "You lied to me." He mumbled into Tony's neck.

Tony winced, fighting the urge to squirm, sheepish at being caught in the act. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, babe.”

Steve shook his head, his breath grazing the skin at Tony’s neck, making him swallow thickly. “Not about you making breakfast.”

Tony’s brow knit together in obvious confusion. “Then what about?"

"About you being a terrible cook. If you're a terrible cook, then Clint doesn't know how to shoot straight. You make the best breakfast I have ever had in my life." 

Tony chuckled, shaking his head and flipping the crepe back over, before placing it on the plate nearby. "I'm not lying. Ask me to make anything else, I'll burn our lovely tower down to mere rubble." 

Steve shook his head, smiling into his neck. "So what brought this on? I mean, I'm not complaining - I look forward to it every morning, but…"

Tony cleared his throat, turning off the stove. He licked his lips, an unconscious habit, not really knowing how to start. "Well, uh… You know. You always do such much for me. Carrying me to bed when I fall asleep in the workshop, making dinner for all of us, making sure I don't work myself to death, taking me out to nice places, putting up with me day after day, just being you - the list goes on and on. I thought that the least I could do was make you breakfast in the mornings. So, y’know, I just Googled how to make food. Edible food. Food that doesn’t burn the tower down. I actually started looking up cooking tutorials about two months ago, but the first six weeks didn’t go so well… You remember you were asking how I burnt half of the workshop to cinders a couple of weeks ago? Yeah, that wasn’t because of a malfunction with the suit. Eggs Benedict are fucking impossible to make. Sorry, language. Anyways. Steve, an apple can’t substitute for breakfast. I don't know how that kept you going for so long. You're a super soldier for God’s sake! Your metabolism works five times faster than an average human's and- mmph!" 

That was as far as Tony got in his rambling before Steve turned him around, pressed him against the kitchen counter, and kissed him firmly. Steve could taste the faintest trace of coffee on Tony's lips, and Tony could taste mint and a hint of apple from Steve. Steve’s arms were wound tightly around Tony's waist, and at this point, the spatula had clattered to the floor, Tony wrapping his arms around Steve's neck. Hesitantly, needing to breathe, the two broke apart, but Steve pressed their foreheads together, azure eyes gazing lovingly into deep brown.

"I appreciate it, Tony. I really do. And the fact that you actually learned how to cook makes it even more special to me. But the reason I do all of those things for you isn't because I want something in return, though. It's because I love you."

Tony's breath hitched in his throat. The term 'love' never really came easily to him. The majority of the people around him always either expected or demanded more or wanted to see him fall. His parents were no exception. Tony's love life was even worse, his ex-playboy ego meaning that he would usually take a different woman to bed each night, getting a phone number in the morning, but throwing it away as soon as the elevator doors shut. The only exception was Pepper, but even then, Pepper couldn't deal with the fact that Tony worked himself into the ground, and always put his life on the line. After about three months of a steady relationship, they separated, but on good terms, still being close friends. Pepper still loved him, she assured him, and he still loved her. But… They weren't in love. Sometimes, Tony wonders if they ever really were. 

Tony really saw himself going nowhere after that. Pepper was pretty much the only person he saw himself settling down with, and the whole separation sent him in a depression, of a sort. It mainly consisted of Tony staying up until ungodly hours of the night, never getting rest, always working on something down in his workshop, trying to keep his mind occupied. Other days consisted of him getting drunk off of his ass, and hiding away in his workshop, ashamed and curled by his workbench. But then came Steve… And the sun came out behind the clouds.

After the Loki incident, things began to fall into place. Steve decided to take up Tony’s offer of staying in the tower, as well as the rest of the group, but he was really the only person who didn’t leave spontaneously, bringing a sort of stability to Tony’s life. Steve would come down to the workshop often, always bringing Tony something to eat or a cup of coffee. Steve wouldn't say much afterwards, just sit down in the workshop with Tony, randomly sketching as Tony fiddled with his 'toys'. But Tony felt much more at peace with Steve around - because he wasn't alone. After a few days, Tony began to strike up conversation, which Steve began to respond to happily and enthusiastically. Soon, the two began to talk about nothing, anything, and everything, and that's when they realized that they weren't afraid of sharing anything with one another. And that's how the friendship started. Then, the romantic relationship. And, Tony could honestly say, he had never been happier in his life.

"I love you too, Steve," Tony smiled up him, before pulling him down for another kiss.

The crepes got cold, but Tony couldn't find it in himself to give a damn.

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I wrote this piece a long time ago (two years, I think). Before Age of Ultron had even started filming lol. So if you're wondering what the setting is for this, I'd say about six months after the incident with Loki and the Chitauri. Hope you guys enjoyed it! Reviews would be fantastic. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, folks.


End file.
